The Greatest Game Ever Played Page #4

Wilfred here is your man.

Top amateur in the British Isles.

Delighted, old chap.

Jolly good wheeze, what?

Giving the Yanks

a thorough thrashing.

I had someone else in mind.

Ted Ray?

Christ, he's a Visigoth.

No, he's a Jerseyman.

'Scuse me.

[men shouting]

All bets off!

- [man 1] Come on!

- [man 2] Come on!

Ha ha ha ha ha!

- Ted!

- Harry!

Hey! Look at you!

What's this, another night out

with your ruling class masters?

Ted Ray, Lord Northcliffe.

Lord Northcliffe?

The honor is entirely mine.

Mmm! [laughing]

[Ted] What brings you down

this way, Harry?

Hello, hello

Stop your little games

Don't you think your ways

you ought to mend

Can you believe they moved

the Open back three months

just so one guy can play in it?

Well, he's Harry Vardon,

The Stylist, The Greyhound.

I don't care if he's

the man in the moon.

They wouldn't do that

for an American.

Ask Francis.

He used to play.

- You did?

- No, not really.

Ah, he's being modest.

He used to be good

before he gave it up

for the glamour of retail.

Isn't that right, Francis?

Francis!

Francis!

Casey would waltz

with the strawberry blonde

And the band played on

He'd glide 'cross the floor

with the girl he adored

And the band played on

His brain was so loaded

it nearly exploded

The poor girl

would shake with alarm

He'd ne'er leave the girl

With the strawberry curl

And the band played on

[orchestra music]

[woman singing in Italian]

Oh, well.

It was glorious.

- Wasn't it glorious?

- Yes, it was.

Have you ever heard

such a voice?

It was like the... the music

was coming through her

from someplace else.

That's the feeling

I've always wanted...

Francis, for what? Hmm?

There he is.

Francis! Come here.

Meet Robert Watson,

president of the

United States Golf Association.

Francis, pleasure.

Well, the pleasure's mine, sir.

Uh, let me have a salesman

show you our equipment.

- It's the best selection in Boston.

- He's not here to buy clubs.

I hear you live in Brookline,

not far from the country club.

Right across the street.

We're holding our Open Championship

there in two weeks.

- Your name came up.

- My name, sir?

I'm looking to add

a local amateur to the field.

Harry Vardon's playing.

And Ted Ray.

Mr. Watson, thank you,

but I can't accept.

- Why not?

- I'm awfully busy here.

And, uh, I don't

play golf anymore.

- How old are you, Francis?

- I'm 20, sir.

Awfully young to be giving up

on your dreams, aren't you?

I just have different ones now,

that's all.

I'm sorry, Mr. Hastings.

There's no need

to explain, Francis.

All the best.

That swing looks familiar.

Hey!

What are you doing here?

Father's taking me out

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